It is cold, and his heart is broken.

He is lost in the wake of seeing Mesec, and he wants nothing more than to lie down and die. There is a cruelty in him that he now knows he cannot control. Knox is beyond himself.

But there are memories still stirring, still breathing, of the dead. His mind will never be at rest. Knox is beginning to fear that he will never be gifted with the end of his life. At barely four years old, he is already counting down to a seemingly impossible end.

He is comprised of death. He walks through the snow with a different face, a killer's smug and hungry mask. He is Dovev, and Manhattan despises this.

She follows, cursing his name and all the names that live within his ancient breast. She is screaming into his mind, she is casting her magic upon his image moment by moment, bit by bit, but nothing can overtake such ancient and murderous desire. Knox, limp and afraid, curls inside the body of a stronger one who has never before known hesitation.

And so the snow tracks around them and the frozen stream appears, and beside it, too, is a mare.

And Dovev is Hungry.

And Dovev is unseen, beneath his descendant's cloak.

And Dovev reaches forth to place one heavy hoof on the neck of the dying, and he bends, and he lowers, and he places his heat against her body for a warm and tender moment. He is a true ghost, now. He is unnoticed, perhaps she cannot even feel him.

But he feels her. And he is hungry. And as the cloak falls away from his form, leaving only that black dog hidden, he reaches forth to try and bite the neck as Knox would have done.

Is this you, descendant? Dovev murmurs as the silver smoke flows from his eyes to seek out innocent, freezing eyes and attempt to blind.

Knox can say nothing. He has this last grip, this last instance of pity for this mare and his own self. He cannot bear to be the violent murderer once more at Dovev's will. He lies to himself.

Knox says it is to save her from a much longer suffering.

Liar, Manhattan tells him. Murderer, she spits from her hidden cloak. Addict, she calls him with particular truth.

I know, the hunter is crying. I know.

And with that, he turns his tear-stained face and the warmth of her that he had hoped to hold within his grip to crack a neck once more. And with it, his heart breaks, too.

—

[[@[Kiara]--Made sure to write it so the blinding magic was reaching out to attempt and he only tried to bite and twist her neck. Up to you if she fights back or is too weak and dies or whatever. I just know you wanted this to happen quickly. If you feel it is too unclear that you have leeway let me know and I will edit.]]